From London with Love
by LucyWithTheBat
Summary: [Richonne AU] With a pending marriage request, Michonne Wright is forced to leave London to return home when her brother is critically injured. There she meets a certain Sheriff's deputy who manages to further complicate her already complicated relationship-status.
1. Chapter 1

**03:20 AM**

Michonne squinted at her phone, the bright light hurting her tired eyes. Her stomach dropped as soon as her brain registered the area code. _Oh dear God_.

"Hello?"  
"Hello. I'm Sheriff's deputy Rick Grimes of Kings County, is this Michonne Wright I'm speaking to?" As if she'd been electrocuted Michonne jumped up.  
"Yes, this is her."  
"Ma'am-"  
"Is he dead?" Michonne couldn't wait, she had to know. "Is he dead?!"  
Gripping the phone with both hands she tried to control her shaking hands as she awaited the deputy's answer.

Having been stirred awake by the tunes of _Marimba_ followed by Michonne's voice, Dominic got up from the couch and moved quickly to the bedroom they once shared. _Who'd be calling her at this hour_?

"He's alive ma'am. Sheriff Wright, your brother was shot in line of duty tonight, he's in surgery as we speak. Ma'am-"  
"My nephew Noah. Who's looking after him?  
"I assure you, ma'am, he'll be in good hands. He's stayin' with my son and myself. I-"  
"I'll be there as soon as possible." **Click**.

Once again, Michonne couldn't wait, she had to move and she had to move right now. It would take her, approximately, seven to nine hours to fly back but when was the next flight going? There was no time to sit down and search for tickets online, she'd have go to Heathrow directly and book the earliest flight right there.

As soon as Dominic saw Michonne's tear streaked face and shaking body he rushed over to her, temporarily, he had forgotten that he no longer was _her_ man and that he shouldn't be holding her like that, especially not with them being half naked.

"Maurice was shot," she sobbed into his chest, "he's in surgery right now." Untangling herself from Dominic's familiar embrace Michonne rushed to put on clothes. She then grabbed her purse, double checked to make sure her cards were all in place before she finally grabbed her passport.

"Wait". Dominic was already dressed in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. "I'll have the G5 ready for take-off within the hour, we can..."  
"I don't want you to come." _Ouch_. Dominic's face fell for a split second before he nodded in acceptance.

"All right. I just... of course. Well then. Uh, nonetheless, it will be here for you."  
"Dom, I can't ask that of you. I'll just take a tax-"  
"I'm offering. Please let me do this."  
"It won't change anything." Michonne would accept his generosity, again but the last thing she wanted was to take advantage of Dominic's never ending pockets, especially now when he was trying so hard to win her back. To fix things. This time she'd relent for Maury's sake, she needed to get back to Georgia.

* * *

"Can you at least think about it, please?" Dominic begged. His brown eyes, puffy and slightly bloodshot, were darting all over her face in search for a sign. Something that could tell him she'd consider marrying him despite of everything?

She had ended their four year long relationship a few days back but remained at his home as he refused to have her stay in a hotel. The penthouse had been her home for over three years and everything she owned was there. It wouldn't be fair to rush her, instead, Dominic had decided that she'd remain until she found a place of her own and she could move out in her own phase. And now, she was heading back home to America for God knows how long. _Bloody hell_.

After the passing of her father five years ago, at the age of 28, Michonne took the greatest risk of her life and accepted to work as an attorney for the American embassy in London, homage to the memory of her father who had been an ambassador. She met Dominic Powell, a renowned architect during her first year in London. With a British mother and Jamaican father, Dominic was the most exquisite man she'd ever laid her eyes on. Built like an Olympic swimmer, he caught most women's (and men's) attention. His dark eyes and long lashes were the first thing Michonne noticed, then she noticed his hands, they were large, slender and his ring finger stood barren (that was her green light to seduce him).

What was supposed to be a one-night stand turned, in a matter of weeks, to a relationship, it was intense and Michonne loved every minute of it. Dominic was almost seven years her senior and had swept her off her feet, he turned the former Atlanta girl into a sophisticated woman.

Now, almost four years later it wasn't quite as endearing, the things she'd found irresistible soon became their undoing; Dominic's flirty behavior had led to many fights when he'd receive very, let's just say _suggestive_ texts in the middle of the night. Sure, he never actually cheated, but Dominic didn't see the problem in entertaining other women and that was a problem for Michonne, Lord knows he'd lose his shit if she acted like that with her colleagues.

Dominic had a way of making her feel temporary, as if her replacement was waiting around the corner. When he spoke about the future it was always in terms of " **I** will, **I** 'd like, **I** want" she could never shake off the feeling that Dominic didn't have a place for her in his future. Was this done unknowingly? Maybe. Michonne wasn't sure but the feeling of complete lack of security and comfort in her own relationship was exhausting.

That, combined with her demanding work and his projects oversees their relationship was sometimes nonexistent, it felt unworthy to continue this slow burn. They had a good run and Michonne wanted to end things before it turned completely sour.

Then... He proposed. Dominic had asked her to marry him mid break up fight. Michonne saw his proposal for what it was: a desperate last attempt to keep her. Anyone who knows Dominic would tell you that he is the forever-a-bachelor kind of guy, abhors the idea of _attesting_ your love by involving religion and/or the law, for him it was simple: if you love each other you stay with each other, if not – good bye.

"Dom-"  
"Please, that's all I'm asking. Think about it."  
"Okay. I'll think about it."  
"Thank you."  
Michonne turned to get up the stairs but was grabbed by both arms and swiftly turned around to face Dominic. His large hands cupped her cheeks before he kissed her.

The last few days were spent fighting and arguing, and he didn't want that to be her last memory of him. _Of them_. He kissed her and poured everything he had onto that kiss.

"I'll be waiting." Slowly Dominic let her go and watched her leave, hoping she'd choose him.

* * *

He slumped his tired body onto the bed, not on his own side but on the side Michonne had occupied. Grabbing her pillow, he groaned into it as he was overwhelmed by her sweet scent. The couch had been his resting place for the last couple of nights. His large Victorian style penthouse had many rooms with comfortable state-of-the-art beds, yet he decided to sleep on the couch. Yeah, it was ridiculous to be acting like a fucking martyr, a victim but he was desperate and Michonne is a big softy underneath all that fierce exterior. He had hoped she'd tell him to stop being ridiculous and sleep in one of the guest rooms or take pity on him and tell him to sleep on their bed. Instead she had completely ignored him. _Surely she isn't completely done, surely there's something I can do._

Dominic proceeded to scroll through pictures of them in his phone. Their home felt deserted and everything beautiful he usually appreciated felt... bad. This is bad, he wasn't even in the same country as her.

"Blimey". He stopped at a certain picture of her in only his boxers and her locs covering her beast. She was so beautiful. He was caught off guard tonight when he rushed into the bedroom and found her only in a pair of white cotton panties and even though she was crying, she was as beautiful as ever with her long locs falling over her shoulders slightly obscuring her pert breasts. Dominic felt the familiar prickling sensation in his balls, it didn't help that she looked good enough to eat.  
 **Or** that he'd been staring at pictures of her. **Or** that he was lying in the bed they fucked on, _hell_ , they had christened every inch of this place.

With a severely damaged ego and a hard dick Dominic toyed with the idea of calling Nicki or Sherry to take care of that itch. It had been ages but he knew they'd welcome him back with open arms and legs. And he was technically single. _Right_?

No. No, he had begged Michonne to think about it and she would, he wasn't going to jeopardise that. He'd have to take care of himself as he thought of his future wife.

* * *

Sitting comfortably in her slightly reclined leather seat Michonne played different scenarios in her head, the next worse than the last. _Dear God, I beg You. Please, save him_. She hated that she'd turned into one of those people her grandmother warned her of becoming. People who'd turn to God in times of need but forget about Him when things were good. _Guilty as charge_. She needed to make things right, let him know that she wasn't angry anymore. That she forgave him a long time ago but her pride got the better of her (as it got him). Regardless of what had happened in the past: he was her big brother and she loved him.

The thoughts were running rampant; _Who shot him? Why? Was it racially motivated? Shit!_ She needed to come in contact with that Deputy again. _What was his name? Miles?_ Perhaps he could help her?

Scrolling through her contacts she stopped at Catherine, her co-worker (and the only other women in their entire building), sending her a text that briefly explained everything and that she'd call her. Then she sent an email to her boss, Nigel. _Technically_ The President of the United States of America was her boss but Nigel was the supervisor and the Embassy's direct link to the White House. Michonne knew her quick departure would ruffle a few feathers but it wasn't anything Catherine couldn't handle, that woman was tough as nails and if Nigel decided to be an asshole about it; she'd fucking quit.

Looking at her watch she quickly calculated that she'd land in another 4 hours. She needed to call her friends Andrea and Sasha as soon as she landed. Michonne opened her iTunes and allowed the soothing voice of Donny Hathaway to calm her down.

 _Hang on to the world as it spins around  
Just don't let the spin get you down  
Things are moving fast  
Hold on tight and you will last  
Keep your self-respect, your manly pride  
Get yourself in gear  
Keep your stride  
Never mind your fears  
Brighter days will soon be here  
Take it from me, someday we'll all be free, yeah  
_

 **A/N:** _And that concludes the first chapter of 'From London With Love'. Hopefully Michonne and Miles can meet up soon. And what did Sheriff Maury Wright do to cause this rift between himself and Michonne? Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed._ **P.S.** _There's a cover for this fic (can only be seen with Desktop/Tablet mode) for those of you who would like to know how Michonne and Rick look. Of course you know_ _ **how**_ _they look but you get my drift. Thanks again – Lucy_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : THANK YOU for the kind reviews, follows/faves and encouraging PM's! I never intended to wait 4 months to update this but after losing a bunch of chapters (damn laptop) I kinda lost my mojo. This chapter is a bit of a filler. Without further ado:  
_

Noah glanced at the large grandfather clock situated next to the TV cabinet. His dad was late which was unusual. With his dad being a former Sargent, he was finical about keeping time and adhering to rules (hence why Noah had already walked/fed the dog, taken out the trash and done his homework). _If he was running late he'd call, he always did. Always_.

Huddling closer to his larger than life Bernese mountain dog who lived up to his name; _Baloo_ , Noah convinced himself that everything was okay and that his dad would boom in any minute, grunting and mumbling under his breath before he berated him for some nonsensical shit like ' _why is there precisely 1 spoon in the sink, son?_ '

He did that a lot during this time of the year, it was a few days before thanksgiving and… his mother's favorite time of the year. She loved the autumn and was a notorious premature Christmas decorator (to everybody's annoyance). She'd probably have the whole house set up by now… _if_ she was alive. Noah loved this time of the year, despite of everything, but it was hard getting into the spirit – how could he? It was only himself and his dad pretending everything was all right.

His Aunt Michonne was the only other family who remember them... well _sans_ his dad. She kept in touch, chatted on FB and sent him cool gadgets every now and then. Noah was grateful that, despite living on a different continent and being super busy, she made him feel like he still had a family. It was obvious to Noah that his aunt hated his dad, though. She never extended her generosity or kindness towards him. And honestly, he kind of deserved it. After all, his actions resulted in an unrepairable rift between himself and the entire family. Everybody had cut his dad off, and by proxy: Noah was cut off too.

 _10:00 PM_.

He was officially two hours late. _Had there been an accident?_ Noah called and texted him hours ago, still no reply. _Perhaps there was a hostage situation, and he was busy negotiating with the robbers in a step van?_ Noah scoffed at his own fleeting imagination, who was he kidding? He had lived in Bumfuck Nowhere also known as Kings County for almost four years and the only exciting shit to ever happened was when Jason Sullivan egged the entire interior of Principal Horvath's brand new car and Horvath went apeshit on the parking lot, they had to call paramedics to sedate him.

 _Four more years_ he told himself, he'd leave this boring ass town and move back to Atlanta the minute, no, _the second_ he turned eighteen. Noah returned his focus on Spongebob, he needed some Spongebob after watching 'The Human Centipede'. _Thanks a lot, Enid_. That girl is definitely the most disturbed individual he knows. She's always recommending these fucked up movies and being a masochist himself Noah ends up watching every single one. But this movie? It gave the term ' _eating ass'_ a new meaning.

 **Knock**

 **Knock**

In a split second Baloo was standing in attention ready to attack if Noah needed him to. Baloo was such a fluffy and loving dog, a complete goofball but the second he felt apprehension from his owners or something rubbed him the wrong way, he'd turn into Cujo 2.0. Combined with his enormous size – he was terrifying.

"Easy, boy."

Noah heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Mrs. Peletier, she'd probably noticed that the Sheriff's cruiser was missing and wanted to check on him. She did that a lot, making sure he was all right, bringing over food or cookies whenever he was home alone. Noah surmised she liked his dad. _Gross_.

Carrying a Tupperware box (of course) she smiled warmly at the teenager, pleased to see that he was all right despite the Sheriff not being home.

"Evening, ma'am."

"Hi Noah. I couldn't help but notice that your dad isn't back yet, is everything okay?" Carol asked.

"Um... I think so?" Noah shrugged not wanting to cause any fuss in case his dad decided to show up.

"What do you mean? Have you called him?"

"He's not picking up."

"The station-"

"Yeah, nobody is picking up," he interrupted. "I dunno, it's weird." Carol frowned but quickly regained her composure, relaxing her forehead. Truthfully? Yes, she was worried, it didn't sound good but she didn't want to alarm the young boy.

Just as Carol was about to persuade Noah to stay at her place until Sheriff Wright returned, a cop car pulled up and for the second time that night Noah sighed with relief but that sense of relief was quickly seized by an overwhelming sense of dread. That wasn't his dad's cruiser.

Deputy Grimes stepped out of the vehicle. _Why is his uniform bloody_? Noah mentally prepared himself for anything the deputy was about to deliver; shooting, stabbing, lost limbs, abduction: whatever shit-whirlwind he was about to get throw into; he'd take it like a man.

With a hand on his hip the deputy raised his other hand in a gesture to calm the obviously alarmed people. Carol wrapped a steady arm around Noah to support him but also to brace herself for the inevitable bad news.

"Good evening". The deputy tipped his hat as if everything was normal and he didn't look like he'd stepped outta a massacre. _Is that my dad's blood_?

"Noah, may I have a word with you...inside?" Noah slowly stepped inside the house, standing awkwardly with Mrs. Peletier still holding him.

"I'm sorry to inform you that there has been an accident. Sheriff Wright, your dad, was injured and he's in surgery." Rick intentionally used the word 'injured' instead of 'shot' or 'critically injured'. Carol gasped, dropping the small Tupperware container spilling out its content, some sort of casserole, on the hallway carpet. It was weird, bizarre even, looking down at the food the first thing Noah thought was that he needed to remove the spoilt food before it stained the carpet. _What the actual fuck?_

"Son?" The gentle voice of the deputy snapped Noah back to reality.

"What happened? Is he going to make it? He's _going_ to make it, right?" Noah decided to keep his eyes on the ground and watch Baloo inhale the casserole. He felt his eyes prickle with tears but didn't want to cry like a little bitch in front of Deputy Grimes and Mrs. Peletier.

"He's alive. Your dad is the toughest man I know son, he's a fighter." Noah nodded at that, his dad was strong but people died, even if they were strong.

Carol gripped Noah even harder, hugging him to herself as she cried. Her life was a hell on earth before Maurice Wright became the Sheriff, he was the only person who didn't turn a blind eye to her bruises or frequent visits to the E.R. The only person who saw her and did something about it. Thanks to him her ex-husband was behind bars. _He can' die. He just can't._

"Now, I need you to grab a change of clothes and anything else you might need-"

"It's cool, Sir. I mean, I got Baloo and I've been home alone before". Noah's stoic but sad demeanor broke Rick's heart. The Sheriff was a very private man but it had reached the grapevine that he was a widower, having lost his wife to cancer. And now this child was facing the possibility of losing another parent. Naturally, Rick wanted to wrap the kid up in a bear hug, however, he respected the boy's pride and gave him space.

"I know, but I'd sure feel a lot better if you stayed with us until we know more, what do you say?"

"Can I bring Baloo?"

.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.

" _I'll be there as soon as possible_."

 **Click**

"Hello? Hello?" Rick looked at his phone and sure enough, the call was disconnected. _She just hung up on me._

Feeling anxious but somewhat relieved that he'd gotten hold of a next of kin. Rick couldn't help but wonder about the Sheriff's personal life. He was easily one of the most upstanding and honest men he'd worked with, but Rick had nothing on his personal life. Not that he had any right to _or_ that it even mattered: but it was his first time hearing of a sister in London, a lawyer at the embassy at that.

Rick isn't a curious person but when it comes to someone you respect, someone you downright admire, you kind of dread finding their dirty laundry. It's a selfish thing. You don't want to find their dirty little secrets because it's _your_ image of _them_ that shatters.

When Rick was a rookie, he walked in on the late Sheriff Johnson (God rest his soul) with his assistant bent over his desk right next to the framed picture of his wife and children. Seeing his boss, the so called 'protector' of Kings County display such lack of dignity and moral was damaging. Rick was put on desk duty for the next twelve months for barging into the Sheriff's office and was told to keep his goddamn mouth shut.

Sheriff Wright, although strict and a jarhead to the bone had been an astonishing mentor. It wasn't even intentionally from his part, he wasn't a John Keating _wanting_ to change people. Sheriff Wright was change.

Rick had struggled to focus on work during the separation. It was what it was, Lori, his wife took off. Leaving behind a letter. Leaving Rick to deal with the aftermath including; explaining to Carl, to his mother, to his friends. That was the hard part, all the Goddamn explaining that Rick was forced to do on something he himself couldn't wrap his head around.

After weeks of coming in late, not coming in at all or doing the job he loved below par, the Sheriff called him in, Rick was sure he was getting fired but instead he got something else.

 _"You're going to take a month's leave with pay and you're going to use this time wisely. You hear me, Grimes? I can't say I know what you're going through, but I know that you WILL overcome this. I know this because you have a son who looks up to you - who needs you. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for your boy. Get your shit together, Grimes. Don't show your face around here unless you have. You're dismissed."_

Rick smiled fondly at the memory. At that moment it was a verbal beating on his already bruised self-esteem, but, two years later and Rick was a new man. It sounds like a cliché, but it was a true one. Rick got his shit together.

 **RG** : Anything new?

Rick sent a text to his partner Deputy Walsh

 **SW** : Still in surgery, still fighting.

 **RG** : Keep me updated, brother.

.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.

"I got hold of your aunt, Michonne? She's on her way." Rick watch as Noah's face scrunched up in confusion.  
 _  
She's on her way?He said that as if she was living a few blocks away._  
"Wait, she's coming? Like, she's coming here to Kings County?" Noah asked. Didn't she hate his dad? Noah was happy, more than happy.

Carl who was sitting on his bed watched as his dad prepared the Jay-Be bed for Noah. They did have a spare bedroom but Rick didn't want Noah feeling alone. _More_ alone than he was felt that is. Besides they used the spare bedroom to store most of Lori's shit.

Noah was a year older than Carl and hung out with the cool kids. He was after all the Sheriff's son and from ATL. He didn't even have to try, popularity shrouded him.

And Carl was anything but popular he had his two friends Patrick and Joe and that was good enough. Unlike Patrick, Carl was spared the bulling. Cop kids didn't get bullied, it was some kind of 'unwritten rule' most kids naturally followed… with the exception of Ron. He was a fucking psycho. _I guess, I'd be a psycho too if I had a bowl-cut and mom who a bunch of owl tattoos_.

Had this been under any other circumstances Carl would have been exited to brag about having Noah Wright in his house but with his dad fighting for his life and the possibility of him dying hovering over them, Carl felt somber. He remembered the time his dad got shot and stayed in a coma for almost two months. He was only nine years old when it happened but the memories still haunted him, he still had the nightmares.

"I'm sorry about your dad." Carl said laying in his bed starring at the ceiling. It was late, early morning actually and he could hear the occasional beep that indicated a new text-message and sometimes his dad's quiet whispers. The Sheriff was out of surgery but his condition was still critical. _'Touch and go',_ that's what Shane said.

"Thanks."

.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.

Noah was greeted by the smell of brewing coffee and something delicious. _Pancakes, bacon_? His stomach growled and he had a slight headache owing to lack of sleep. Mr. Grimes had informed him that his dad was out of surgery and recovering sometime during the early morning and after breakfast he was going to see him. Noah was feeling hopeful, he didn't want to feel hopeful but it was a stupid feeling that crept up on him.

Breakfast with the Grimes was a weird experience. Noah had heard the rumors surrounding Mr. Grimes, he'd been in a coma for two months and somehow managed to recover from a bullet to head and chest. On top of that, the man looked like a certified badass with his thick beard and scar under his eye. Seeing _that_ man all smiles and wearing a fucking apron that said 'Kiss the cook' was a paradox. It was… weird.

And Mr. Grimes could cook. He'd made pancakes, toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon.  
"Woah" Noah said impressed.

"It's not always like this, you know." Carl offered, a little embarrassed over how extra his dad was being. _Why would he wear that apron?_

He had even hooked up Baloo with a large bowl of _Fromm dog food_ and a bowl of water. "It's because your dad is his boss and he'd probably get fired if you starved–"

"Don't listen to him, Noah."

"But did I lie, thou?"

Noah snickered at their banter. Happy to finally eat, he was famished after everything.

"Where's your backpack, son?" Rick raised his eyebrows at his son's lack of school necessities. _He better not be testing me just because we got company_.

"Yeah… about school. I wanted to ask you if I could go with Noah instead. You're going back to the station, so I could keep him company… till his aunt arrives? "

Rick scrutinized the two teens in front of him before nodding towards the cruiser. "Get in".

"Thanks dad. Besides, I know how to trick the vending machine, get it to spit out three bars–"

"Carl!" Rick barked.

"What? Dad, they charge like 10 bucks for a fun-size bar! Isn't usury illegal?" Carl defended himself.

"It's a sin, so you're really doing the Lords work. Also if you're a diabetic-". Noah agreed.

"No, Noah. Not you too. Don't. How do you even know how to – you know what? Never mind. Don't do it. I'm serious". Rick groaned, starting up the car. _Could these two even be trusted in each other's company?_


End file.
